Crawling Through The Dark
by Elcee
Summary: No one ever said the future would be easy and Harry never expected it to be but a little support can go a long way
1. The accompanying darkness

Crawling Through The Dark

Elcee

Disclaimer: Don't own them but I got dibs on Harry when he's 18, I see potential.

Author's note: Yep, I'm a fanfictionnet first timer so please be objective! This is actually a school piece that is for my yr12 SAC (school assessment thingy) so any comments are very welcome (be an English teacher for a day!). Please review and suggest what you would like to happen to because after about 1000wrds I can stop for school but will continue if worthwhile, k? K! Sweet!

*The accompanying darkness*

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He stared out upon the plains, his gaze shifting as he grew in the energy from his surroundings. He could feel the power growing within him. He also knew, accepted, that there was nothing he could do about it, no way to fight it, that it was fate bestowed on him by the Fates themselves.

A small smile rose to his abused lips that wore the blunt of his anger, bitten red, as the wind ran past him. That was a mind puzzler for sure: fate given to him by the Fate's. That really wouldn't be fate then but destiny, a plan…

He pushed those thoughts to the furthest recesses of his mind where all the pain and hurt lay. It did not do to dwell on things that could not be altered, he'd accepted his given path and he stood by it, tall and proud.

The wind seemed to be pleased with his thoughts, whipping by him, ruffling his black untidy hair and causing the material that hung from his strong form to fly out behind him. He didn't move, the wind was purely a comfort for him, a companion that could not be hurt by his actions or threatened by his coldness. It was as cold as him, if not more. 

He wasn't a cold person by nature like the wind; it had been forced upon him along with the ever-growing power.

A dark laugh tore past his lips as his deep emerald green eyes thinned as he snarled at the invisible intruder that invaded his thoughts. The whole package. That's what he'd been given, the whole bloody package. Coldness had been foreign to him once when he'd been a happy child with no cares in the world. Now coldness was a necessity.

Although believing his cold and humorless laugh to be unheard by anyone, it has been…


	2. The dark watcher

Crawling Through The Dark

Elcee

Disclaimer: Don't own them but I got dibs on Harry when he's 18, I see potential.

Author's note: Yep, I'm a fanfictionnet first timer so please be objective! This is actually a school piece that is for my yr12 SAC (school assessment thingy) so any comments are very welcome (be an English teacher for a day!). Please review and suggest what you would like to happen to because after about 1000wrds I can stop for school but will continue if worthwhile, k? K! Sweet!

Dark watcher

Unbeknownst to him, another hidden figure was cloaked in darkness nearby, watching not the wind but the boy, a rarely seen emotion flickering briefly across his features. The sympathy had escaped as quickly as it had appeared, once again replaced by his trademark sneer that inhabited his face more often than not. It had once been predicted that even in slumber he was angry, always cursing the world he'd been thrown into.

His dark eyes traced the movement of the boy as he stepped into the wind, embracing it as he closed his eyes, breathing it in deeply.

The scene before the man was a familiar one, he recalled having witnessed it before, although from a slightly different perspective. His mind still retreated to that distant memory when it needed to be centered, to become objective…to re-freeze his soul.

As much as he'd verbally refuse to admit it, he knew what the child was feeling as he'd too felt it. He to had once needed to escape to the wind and darkness to concentrate but also to be free, without fear.

For many creatures, the dark was a forbidden entity; a feared implication of the night where none should roam and loneliness was advised against. The black was a creature that attacked lone prey and savaged the innocent without remorse.

The man looked back to the boy who'd shut his eyes again to his own darkness and allowed his unruly hair to explore his face freely.

Accept for them. He and the boy invited darkness with open arms, welcomed it into their souls and drew the needed energy from it to face the next day…

AN: Hopefully more to come and thank u all soooo much for the reviews and constructive help, much appreciated. Please send future ideas along too as after about the 100wrd mark, I'm freeeeeeeeeeeee from the school confines. Thanks again!


	3. The darkness fights

The darkness fights

With his eyes closed against the night, he could finally concentrate, sort through the jumble of nonsense that was his mind and focus on what was needed, what was a necessity, what kept him alive.

Life sure changed when you least expected it, that was for sure. He'd never expected to be needing the wind as his only companion or that his own friends would become a danger to him and he to them.

Worst of all was the loneliness, the glowering façade of people around him that failed to truly be there when it counted, who either feared or loathed him because of what he'd become. The people who he'd once eaten with now shied away like frightened animals if he so much as turned towards them and the people who had never liked him from the start now had a reason to stand and glare, to condemn, to wish him dead…

He sighed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut against the tears that begged for freedom. He wouldn't let them out, not if he couldn't be released also. With a weary hand, he scrubbed it over his tired face and then let it pass through his wild hair in a wasted attempt to tame it.

He'd never asked for this, the only thing he'd really ever wanted was to be normal, to be the same as the kids playing ball on the street but that had been stolen from him without his acceptance and he'd become this.

With that, his eyes snapped open, emerald meeting the coal black of the night. He'd never asked for this, he'd never begged for this, he'd never accepted this and most of all, he'd never wanted this.

"Never".

Although spoken barley louder than a fierce whispered, the words echoed through out the night, aided by the wind in carrying them far off. He would only hope that they would be carried to someone that cared. He'd learnt though, as hard as it may be to acknowledge, no one cared.


	4. The dark vigil

The dark vigil

As the voiced raced past him, carried upon the shoulders of the wind, he felt his jaw clench as his heart froze. The context to the single word was not needed to understand it, one, if they cared enough, could read it as if it were a novel.

The pure agony spoke of the pain that the child held within, not allowing the world to view in fear of being condemned weak.

The sorrow that tore from his lips told anyone listening that he wished things had been different, that he never wanted this, that he was sorry for whatever it was people hated him for.

The fire that laced his voice warned of the anger and vengeance that burned deep within him that he now controlled but feared of its release as it would be as powerful as the hurt in his heart.

The whisper that carried the voice however spoke of not a presence but the true feelings of the child. The feelings that he so well hid in an attempt to be what he was expected to become. An attempt to mask what he felt that worked only too well.

Everyone believed this child to be invincible, indestructible and imperishable yet they failed to see the child behind the mask, the mask that was slowly controlling and destroying the old, becoming the new.

He'd seen the treatment inflicted upon the shield by all the others. The fear their eyes held as he past by, the hate that followed him as he trudged on seemingly uncaring and the respect for being strong, for standing up, for taking on the responsibility bestowed upon him. Everyone failed to allow their eyes to view the real child and that, not danger or vengeance, but the failure to look past what they wanted to see, would be the child's downfall.

However, he would not contribute to that, he refused to. He knew what happened when that last person who gave comfort and cared left, he knew how that effected and threatened the very foundations a person stands on. But after the last turns their back, you no longer remain a person, you become a creature that merely exists…a machine. And in his own personal instance, a killing instrument.


	5. A dark past

A dark past

A small chuckle threatened to escape his throat as he coldly regarded the boy, allowing only his dark eyes to show the sadness threatening to overwhelm him.

The irony was almost amusing to him. This child had been part of his decision, a decision he detested himself for, berated his heart and blackened his soul. This child that was the instrument for the Light had indirectly caused him to turn to the Dark.

Now he could objectively view his past and look through the hatred he felt for himself and the crimes he'd committed, he could only shake his head and ponder his decisions, however unchangeable. This boys mother had driven him to the Dark. But how he'd loved her…still loved her even in her death.

She had been something else, someone who stood out like gold on red, a pure essence among the hoards of sheep followers within the world that condemned so easily but forgave rarely. She'd been in his very being from the beginning, brightened his day, lightened his life and illuminated his soul.

And he'd loved her for it, he'd cared for her like no other in his life and then he'd lost her. He'd been scared and he'd shied away, he had tried to protect himself from future hurt but had only made more.

She'd slipped through his fingers like sand through the hourglass and he hadn't fought for her, he hadn't chased after her, he'd allowed her to become only a shadowy memory to him. It had been his fault yet at the time it was so much easier to blame her for where he turned to.

The Dark had seemed so alluring when standing in the suffocating loneliness, emptiness in both surroundings and heart and he'd been power hungry, a need to prove himself burning deeply.

Prove to her that she'd chosen the wrong guy, that they were meant to be together not torn apart as they had been by his own fears. Prove to himself that he wouldn't hurt her if he allowed her into his heart.

The Dark had been forbidden, a black entity that all feared yet were curious over what it truly was and meant to belong to it. Very few actually had the courage to investigate however, to cure that drive to complete the knowledge. He'd been intrigued driven to prove to the world that he was brave, strong, worthy of her…

Then she'd died. The day was as clear as crystal in his mind, replayed at every pausing interval, every second his eyes closed. The mist that swirled the sky, the restlessness of any animal spotted and the dread, the dread weighed heavily as if the very night knew of what was about to occur.

Because of the Dark…

Even before he's heard those feared words that she had been ripped from the earths grasp, he'd seen the error in his beliefs, the wrongness in his actions, the hurt caused because of him and all because he's been left alone in the world, consumed by the power of darkness.


	6. The dark thoughts

The Dark Thoughts

****

He lifted his gaze, allowing it to remain on the dark forest before him, his young but intense green eyes almost out of place among the dark shadows that cascaded down his pale face. His head stayed up, not allowing the luxury of relaxation even for a second if it meant he'd drop his guard and become weakened.

Although the dark night hid them, he could felt the pair of eyes that were settled upon his form, watching, waiting. It was not the gaze of a predator, not hungry and waiting for its prey's moment of weakness but calmly watching, almost keeping a vigil over him as he was threatened to be consumed by the darkness. The stranger cloaked in the long shadows watching was almost a comfort to his stormy soul…

He shook his head, wispy black strands falling to tickle his forehead.

No, no one would comfort him, why would anyone want to comfort the outcast? The freak of nature? The child that chose the darkness instead of the light to seek solace from? He couldn't allow himself to settle into such a luxury, comfort was for the weak, support for the needy. Letting himself be lulled into a false sense of security would only lead to more heartbreak which he believed would be the last straw to the already fragile organ.

"Please, just leave…" His voice rang out softly through out the quiet night as the wind had retreated moments before. It sounded out, choked with the held in emotions and hoarse from the lack of use. You didn't need a voice when no one listened, when no one was there to hear your words.

He let his chin fall to his chest as he looked to the cold ground. Behind him, clothing rustled and he was sure he was to be left alone…again.


	7. The abandonment of dark

The abandonment of dark

****

The child's voice was soft, plagued by pain, weakened by hurt yet still strong, determined to win over all other foes. But he was not a foe to the boy, he was not the enemy or even the people who held him as an outcast.

He knew he should have left, turned on his heels with a swish of his clothing and click of his shoes yet he could not, he refused to give the boy his wish. He knew it to not be his real want and his real desire. He knew because he had felt it before. The desperate want for a comforting voice to sooth him, the need for arms to encircle him in a protective embrace.

He was not that voice nor was he the owner of those arms yet he was there and he was all the child had. He was all that was being offered, no one else had even tried. The darkness surrounding both of them didn't count, it offered no companionship, only an escape from reality that always came crashing back.

He moved from his watchful station, stepping towards the only other figure in the darkness, silently moving across the great divide that was between him and the child. His hand, almost of its own accord reached out and without hesitation, grasped the black clad shoulder. It was purely acting out a normal gesture if anyone was observing, yet to him, it was plunging into un-chartered water, headfirst into the murky waters of the foreign. By doing this, by helping this child, he was opening himself up for hurt…again.

But this time he was not afraid, he did not draw back for fear of rejection, the persistent screaming of denial of his own heart. He stayed fast, hand still present on the shoulder. And as he watched the boy turn slightly, peering over his shoulder, he recognized both the surprise and relief light up the emerald orbs of his being. He knew he'd done the same thing so long ago when he'd been offered the saving hand.

The boy didn't speak, thank him or even smile. No, smiling was a long way down the road but neither did he shrug of the offered hand but allowing it to remain and along with it, the other man. The man too stayed quiet, knowing that words were of little consolation as lying was to easy but also knowing that by just being here, staying here, it was enough.

It was enough to save the darkness from receiving another meal and for the light to slowly grace the once darkened land, illuminating to once darkened figures in its path.


End file.
